Warning! This chapter contains VERY graphic violence.
It took almost ten minutes before Garcia had managed to get the whole story out of the shaken woman, and once she had, Blake stared wildly into her eyes and said;
"We need to go to Quantico."
"Are you insane?! No! We're going to the nearest police station!" Garcia said.
"I'll call the police from the car, I swear I will, but the BAU is the only place where he wouldn't dare to get to me," she said. Now she sounded somewhat collected again, but it was merely an act. She had never felt more adrift in her life.
Garcia wondered if this thing about BAU being the only sanctuary was just an idea Blake had, or if it was true, but fine. She could agree it would probably be safer in a building full of FBI agents. It would probably be safe enough at a police station as well, but he would expect her to go there. At least that's what Blake seemed to believe, and Garcia didn't know enough about James to have a different opinion.
She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled.
"Alright. Let's go."
"My name is Alex Blake, I'm with the FBI, my husband James Blake has filed a missing person's report on me. I am not missing. I have left him after years of domestic violence."
While her voice sounded calm and composed, that was a result of shock rather than actual calm. Also, she knew that if she sounded upset, it would lessen her chances of being believed, as paradoxical as it may seem. She didn't know exactly what James had said about her, but if she came across as paranoid she would get no help. Not in time.
"I am staying with a friend. I don't want to give up her name in case he finds out. Please find him and take him into custody, I will not reveal my whereabouts until you call me back on this number and tell me he cannot harm me. I will make a formal report as soon as I get to a place where I can feel safe."
She hung up without answering any more questions and pressed both hands against her temples. "I can't believe this is happening to me," she gasped and ran her fingers through her hair, making a complete mess of it.
"Hang in there, it's almost over," Garcia said, hoping it was true.
Blake didn't reply.
They made it into the building with no incidents and the closer they got to their unit, the more Blake relaxed. Perhaps her sense of security was false, but it certainly helped her think. And with that, she began to feel a little bit embarrassed about the whole thing. She felt curious eyes upon her as they walked through the corridors and knew she must look awful. She halted and turned to Garcia.
"I'm going to the ladies' room. I need to fix myself up."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"Penelope, we're at Quantico. The police are notified and they are - I hope - looking for him as we speak. If I'm not safe here, I'm not safe anywhere in the world."
Garcia looked her in the eyes and nodded.
"Okay. But don't take too long."
Blake gave her an impatient eye roll that ironically made Garcia feel better - if Blake could show annoyance over the protection she had been desperate for only minutes earlier, she was probably going to be alright.
"I'm calling the team and let them know what's happening."
"Okay."
Blake opened the door to the ladies' room and noted to her relief that it was empty. The last thing she wanted was some coaxed conversation with someone by the sink, possibly having to explain why she looked like hell. She stepped inside, the sound of her heels echoed back from the walls. The door closed behind her.
She caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror just a split second before James grabbed her by the hair and smacked her face-first into the wall. The pain erupting when her nose broke was excruciating. When she gasped for air to scream for help, she inhaled blood and the scream came out as a thick groan as he yanked her back, still by the hair. She had left a splotch of blood on the white wall. It had the same shape as a billowing mushroom cloud and she stared at it as if hypnotised until he violently turned her towards him. She made another effort to scream but this time it sounded like a half-choked cough. His eyes bore into hers with the intensity of a laser.
"What's that, honey? Hm? Lost your ability to speak altogether, have you?" he mocked, raising one hand and striking her across the mouth. Her lip split open and more blood gushed down her face and the front of her blouse. The sticky fabric clung to her skin and oddly enough the first random thought that cut through the throbbing pain was I'll never get the stains off my clothes.
She reached for her gun, that she had debated long and hard to get to keep, but he easily knocked it out of her hands.
"See, I knew you'd come to this place. I honestly thought people would be on the lookout for me, but…" he clicked his tongue. "Guess not; I just showed my ID and walked right on in. And your precious team are in California. Isn't that just too bad?"
He punched her in the stomach and she doubled over, spraying blood everywhere as the air was knocked out of her. He waited until she began to straighten up before punching her again, even harder this time. He pushed her up against the mirrors.
"Take a good look at yourself, bitch! Do you see how pathetic and useless you are? Do you see how disgusting you are?!" He shook her. "Do you!?"
She began crying. "Yes, James, yes, I do, I'm sorry, just let me go," she sobbed.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her across the room. Her body left a smear of blood on the floor, and he stepped into it as he came after her. She saw that he was about to kick her - with the shoe that already had her blood on it - and tried to curl up in order to protect herself from the blow, but she wasn't quick enough. The kick struck her straight in the ribs and she gasped at the familiar pain when something snapped inside of her.
"I should have killed you years ago, you stuck-up frigid cunt! You always thought you were all high and mighty! Well guess what, you're nothing! You are nothing Alex!"
She barely heard him anymore. Everything hurt so badly she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Thick, coppery blood gushed down her throat from her battered nose and she spat in an attempt to free her airways before it could drown her. He kicked her in the ribs again and whether he fractured another rib or sent the ones already broken out of place, she could feel it when something punctured her lung. She could no longer breathe. It felt like everything inside of her was broken; falling to pieces like a rag doll in the jaws of a rabid dog.
I'm dying, she thought, but it was merely a statement; a neutral announcement. She wasn't even afraid anymore. She was just tired. Exhausted, really. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.
Garcia opened the door and called out; "Alex, you're making me worried…" she froze as she saw the blood. There was so much blood, all over the floor and the walls, and it had stained the mirror nearest to the door with lots of red droplets and streaks.
Blake's gun was on the floor next to the trashcan and Garcia bent down and picked it up in one swift movement. She hated guns, but after she had been shot Derek had taught her how to handle them with confidence. Not that she felt confident at the moment.
Shallow, wheezing breaths came from the far corner. Alex Blake was squirming on the floor in a growing puddle of her own blood and the man towering over her had to be her husband. The great, selfless doctor. The doctor without borders, indeed.
"James Blake, step away from her and put your hands where I can see them," Garcia said in a loud voice, hoping that she sounded like an authority. He whipped his head around and stared at her. Garcia felt a shiver running down her spine at the sight of him - he looked absolutely deranged.
"I'll be damned," he said, almost sounding amused. "If it isn't the fat little tech analyst. So you're the one who's been hiding my wife. Well, it doesn't matter. I've got her now."
He scoffed and began to aim another kick at his wife - at her head this time - but before he could get that far a shot rang out and his white shirt began to turn red as he slowly collapsed on the floor.
No, Penelope Garcia didn't like weapons, but that didn't mean she hadn't learned to handle them.
"Alex, stay with me. Okay, just stay with me, oh my God…" Garcia didn't know where to begin; the other woman was bleeding everywhere and there was no telling how badly wounded she was inside.
Another woman opened the door and Garcia screamed at her to call 911. The woman took one look at the scene before her, then pulled out her cell phone and did as she was told.
"Hey, stay with me, please don't let go, okay? Alex, help is on the way, hang in there…"
Alex managed to open her eyes and fixate the younger woman for a moment, but then her eyes rolled to show the whites before closing altogether. Her every breath was a painful struggle and Garcia saw that she was giving up.
"No, no no no, don't you dare!"
Garcia had no idea for how long she sat there before the paramedics turned up, but it felt like an eternity. Other people came and tried to help, but Alex just lay there, her assaulted body clinging to the habit of life that her mind had already given up on.
A/N
Yeah, I'm actually very sorry, I think I traumatised myself by writing this chapter. I used to be a horror writer back in my teens and early twenties but I have grown way soft since the last time I wrote a horror fic and UGH! I'm going to need a big dose of seriously sugary fluff to flush this out of my system.
Also, I know a lot of things don't make sense in this story - but a lot of things don't make sense in real life either.
Spoiler alert for those in despair over where this chapter ends; I don't do sad endings. ;)